It All Ends Here
by Alanna the Lioness
Summary: Draco Malfoy is a prefect. Fleur Delacour is back as the D.A.D.A. teacher. Ron's finally acknowledged that he's in love with Hermione. A new girl wants to take Hermione's head-of-the-class position. And Voldemort is rising..
1. The Burrow

Forgive Me, Hermione (New)

=Alanna the Lioness=

A/N: I'm back, and I've reached a decision…I won't be continuing the old "Forgive Me, Hermione". I'm really, really sorry to those of you who really DID like it. It has 270 reviews as of now…I suppose that should tell me something, but I just can't continue writing a piece that *I* don't like. Maybe if I'd had the time and finished it when I was still 14, I would have found it satisfactory. But again, I really am sorry. I just…don't see how I can make it better. I've read over the first chapters a couple of times, and it all sounds so awful and amateur to me now. In other words, I've changed the plot and evil character (formerly known as Alexandra) to something that I like.

So I'm re-doing it. I've taken out a few things and added some others. This one will be much different, and in some ways the same. The characters will be acting and talking differently. I belong to one Harry Potter role playing group, where everyone is an awesome writer. You have to "audition" to play the part of a canon character. Somehow, I ended up playing Hermione Granger, and for some reason, I feel as though I can portray her much better in fan fics now. All the character development and interaction with other characters helped me a lot with my fan fic writing skills….or at least, **I** think so…so let's give it a try. ^^;

The RP group I belong to is called Harry Potter: The Lost Chapters. It's based on book five. All of us would really appreciate it if you're a good writer and you'd like to join. Here's the link: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HPTheLostChaptersHP .

By the way, my fic title sucks. *gags* Time for a re-naming process. Um…I really don't know what to call it as of yet. I'm kinda hoping it'll come up sometime while I'm writing this…o.o;

By the way, the ONLY ship of this fic is R/Hr, to come up later. There may be a few Ginny-stuttering-around-Harry incidents, but although I don't see anything wrong with it, I'm not a big Harry/Ginny fan.

-Elena-

CHAPTER ONE: The Burrow

Hermione Granger lowered the rather large Transfiguration book she was pouring over and eyed her two friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, with obvious disapproval. It was the seventh week of summer break, and the three were outside the Weasley's house; Hermione under a large, shady tree; Harry and Ron playing chess nearby.

"Sorry, mate." Ron grinned at Harry as he gave his bishop a nudge to a square on which Harry's queen was standing. The queen, although she protested loudly, retreated to the side of the chess board before anything further could happen to her, where she sat muttering complaints and nasty things about Harry's chess skills.

"Yeah, sure." Harry winced. He wasn't in check yet, but he'd been relying on his queen to get him through this game. He turned to Hermione. "Any suggestions?"

Hermione snorted. "Honestly, Harry; even if I COULD give you any…"

"Which she can't," coughed Ron.

Hermione ignored him. "…then they wouldn't be much use, would they?" She pointed at the board. "You're already in danger of being checked, and your pawns are blocking your king's way out."

Harry sighed and told his rook to move three spaces forward. Ron grinned and slid his same bishop forward to close in on Harry's king.

"Checkmate." He yawned and stretched. "Want to play Quidditch, Harry?"

"No." Hermione interrupted before Harry could open his mouth. "You both have homework to do." She scowled at them. "You've been putting it off for days. And you can't expect to get a head start on your O.W.L.s if you don't start studying."

Ron gaped at her. "On our O.W.L.s? Hermione, have you gone mad? The O.W.L.s aren't until June! That's almost a year away!"

Harry grinned. "Come on, Hermione…" He tried to put on his best serious face as she glared at him. "We'll teach you how to ride a broom!"

Hermione blinked. "What makes you think I don't know how to ride one already?"

"Yeah, right." Ron snickered. "Then why haven't we seen you on one since first year?"

Hermione flushed bright red. "Because I've got better things to do than play Quidditch!" She snapped. "You wouldn't be on a broom half as much either, Ron, if you even *tried* to learn your school work!"

Harry was trying hard not to laugh. He didn't see why Hermione was so upset all of a sudden. "What's the matter? Are you afraid you'll fall off?" He teased.

"No," she returned huffily.

"Were you afraid your skirts would fly up?" Ron wanted to know.

"No!" She snapped. "Why can't you just leave me alone? If you MUST know, I….I don't like heights." She looked away, the blush deepening.

That shut them up. Harry and Ron looked at each other. Hermione Granger, admitting she was afraid of something other than getting anything other than a 100 in a Hogwarts class?

"Er….why are you afraid of heights?" Ron ventured cautiously. He could tell they were upsetting her, and it had been fun for a while; they had only been teasing, but she really seemed like she was about to explode at any moment.

Hermione wouldn't look at them. "Because I just **am**! Viktor tried to take me flying once, and I didn't want to go because I was afraid of…" She trailed off. "I really don't want to talk about it."

Harry suddenly got a flash of recollection from their third year. The two of them, Harry and Hermione, had been riding Buckbeak in a last attempt to free Sirius Black from the clutches of the dementors of Azkaban. He remembered how Hermione had clung to him until he had felt as though his ribs would crack, and how she had muttered 'Oh, I don't like this. I **really** don't like this,' over and over. "Do you want to learn?" Harry inquired. "Ron and I could teach you. Er…maybe it sounds stupid, but isn't the best way to get over your fears facing them?"

Hermione looked down at her book. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt," she admitted softly. "I **do** want to enjoy it. It's terribly embarrassing to be afraid of heights." Something glittered from her Muggle jeans pocket, and Harry just caught sight of the prefect badge before she tucked it away again.

Ron had seen it, too. "A prefect?" He yelped, getting to his feet. "You're a prefect?! Why didn't you tell us?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Yes. I got my letter yesterday. You don't have to **yell**, Ron!"

"I can't believe-" Ron broke off, shaking his head. His ears were scarlet. Hermione was a **prefect**?! Not that it surprised him, of course, and in a way, he was proud of her, but…a prefect? How was she supposed to come along with them if she was a prefect? She'd just take points off Gryffindor, and with his and Harry's history of breaking the rules, the situation certainly didn't work well.

"Congratulations, Hermione." Harry smiled at her. His tone was slightly strained, as he was thinking the same thing. Still, this couldn't be **too** bad…

"Going to take points off, are you?" Ron snapped at her. "Say I 'accidentally' turn Goyle into a fluffy rabbit. Are you going to take points off?"

"Ron, she can take points off MALFOY!" Harry interrupted. This seemed to stop Ron's tirade for a moment.

"Hey, yeah…" His eyes widened. "You can take points off Malfoy anytime you want to! And if Snape is a bastard and takes two hundred points off Gryffindor because Neville was a prat, you can take two hundred off Slytherin!" He grinned madly. "Bloody brilliant, Hermione! Congratulations!"

Hermione closed the book and stood up. "I'm going inside," she informed them tersely. "See you at dinner." And with that, she turned and headed back to the Burrow. They watched her enter through the kitchen door and slam it shut.

"What's **her** problem?" Ron goggled at the door.

Harry sighed. "I think you upset her."

"*Me*?" Ron demanded.

"Yeah. With that last bit." Harry raised his eyebrows. "The one about taking two hundred off Slytherin because Snape did the same to Gryffindor."

Ron gaped. "What's wrong with that? I was only joking!" Truth be told, Ron was fully aware that Hermione would do nothing of the sort. She would see it as against the rules and immature. Still, he had no idea why she'd gotten so upset that she'd gone off like that.

"Maybe you should go after her," Harry suggested. "Seriously, Ron. Patch things up now before she finds even more reasons to get angry."

"Yeah, yeah, fine." Ron sighed and headed for the kitchen door.

__________*__________

Ginny Weasley looked up as her youngest brother entered the kitchen. "What did you say to Hermione?" She demanded. "Did you two have a row?"

Ron looked irritated. "Why is it any of your business?"

Ginny glared at him. "It's my business," she said huffily, "because she's my friend, and she was crying."

"She was crying?" Ron was shocked. He heard the screen door close behind him as Harry arrived after him.

"Yes." Ginny looked at Ron threateningly. "You'd better go and say sorry. It's really mean of you to yell at her all the time."

"What?! I didn't-" Ron threw up his hands and gave up. He stormed toward the foot of the stairs. "Where is she now?"

"Where do you THINK? My room, you stupid great prat!" Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry, who shrugged helplessly. "Where else is she supposed to go?"

Ron didn't answer. He had already started up the stairs, a funny feeling in his stomach. He hadn't meant to make Hermione **cry**! And he hadn't yelled. He'd only expressed his disbelief that she'd gone and turned into a prefect without telling him or Harry. Okay, so maybe he had raised his voice a bit; maybe he had gone a bit red in the face. But he hadn't yelled…..

/_Yeah, right, Ron_,/ He chided himself. /_You were a complete git._/ He had reached the floor on which Ginny's room was located. He hesitated for a moment before approaching the door and knocking softly.

"Yes?" Hermione's muffled voice came from behind the door.

"Hermione, it's me." Ron swallowed a bit. "May I come in?"

"No. Go away!" She snapped.

Ron was about to retort, but he stopped himself. He'd come up here to talk to Hermione, not to fight with her. He waited a few moments, then spoke again. "Please?"

"No." Ron could sense the tears behind her voice. He felt awful. He hated it when Hermione cried; especially when it was his fault. He ignored the reply and turned the doorknob, stepping inside. It took him a while to get adjusted to the pastel pinks and purples that made up Ginny's room before he strode over to Hermione, who was sprawled out on the bed, her face buried in the pillow. He reached out and gently shook her shoulder.

"Hermione…"

"I said, go away!" She sobbed. Ron sat on the edge of the bed and awkwardly placed a hand on her back.

"Hermione…I'm sorry."

There was a pause, in which Hermione's muffled sobs were the only sounds to be heard in the room.

"I'm sorry," Ron said again. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I feel awful." He looked down at his feet, burning with shame. He couldn't remember the last time he'd apologized to Hermione…maybe he never really had.

Hermione stirred and sat up, attempting to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Honestly, Ron, you're such an insufferable git sometimes," she sniffed. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. The tears kept coming, and finally, she gave up and let them fall.

Blushing noticeably, Ron reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a maroon handkerchief. "Here…" Awkwardly, he reached out and dabbed at the tears. "It's something that Mum gave me. I never used it, though." He studied her face intently. "I'm really sorry."

"I didn't **ask** to be a prefect," Hermione whispered tearfully. "I've always wanted to be one, but now I'm not so sure. Ron, as much as I'd like to, I'd NEVER take points off of Slytherin for no reason!" She glared at him. "As prefect, there are certain rules I have to follow, and I can't favor **anyone**, or…"

Ron sighed. "I know. Or you won't be a prefect anymore."

"Right." Hermione looked away. "I suppose I overreacted a bit."

"So did I." He suddenly became very interested in Ginny's quilt.

Hermione swallowed. "Why **were** you so upset?"

Ron began to pick at a loose thread on the quilt. "I….I don't know." He sighed again. "I reckon it's…it's because I don't want things to change."

Hermione was silent.

Ron continued. "I mean, it's always been you, me, and Harry. Well, after that night with the troll, that is," he admitted, blushing. "And if you're a prefect, then you're going to have to do all this extra lot…and you won't have time for us anymore."

Hermione looked at him then. "Of course I'll have time for you!" She protested sharply. "How could you think that?"

Ron smiled a bit. "Right, then. Your turn. Why did **you** overreact?"

Hermione broke their gaze and looked at the floor. "I didn't want to tell you, or Harry." She rested her chin in her hand. "I knew you'd find out sometime, of course….I just didn't think you'd like it." She paused to sigh a bit. "Ron, the last thing I want you and Harry to do is avoid me. Just because I'm a prefect, it doesn't mean I'm going to be waiting for one of you to break the rules. I'm not Percy, you know." She bit her lip. "Please don't be angry with me for being a prefect."

Ron was smiling. He was so relieved that he actually managed to touch her arm without blushing. "Of course you're not Percy," he replied, giving her a look of mock-horror. "You're Hermione Granger. And even though the differences are only slight…okay, not really there at all…." He laughed and ducked as she swatted at him with the pillow. "Only joking…we're not going to avoid you. I promise." He looked at her seriously. "Will you let us teach you to fly a broom now?"

Hermione broke into her first real smile in days. "All right, then. But you'd better not laugh at me!" She added sternly.

_________*_________

A/N: That's it for the Burrow. The next chapter will take place at Hogwarts.

Let me know if you like it…blarg, I really need to go to bed now. O.O; Insomniaaaaaac.

Cherry mistmas! Mwehahahaha…I am odd.


	2. Back To Hogwarts

Forgive Me, Hermione

[ By Alanna, who still thinks this title is crap ]

A/N: I hope everyone had a merry Christmas…if you celebrate it, that is. I think I had the best Christmas of my life…most of my family was present this year, and it actually snowed. Whoo! Uh, yeah. Anyway, I know most of you haven't a clue where this fic is going…and to tell you the truth, I wasn't sure either, until today. I'm going to write this chapter before I forget…o.O Merry new year to all. And don't get drunk…that's not fun, though it's fun for everyone else to see you act stupidly.

By the way, Hermione's "flying lessons" WILL have some significance later on.

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/hpthelostchaptershp 

_____*_____

CHAPTER TWO: Back to Hogwarts

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore rose, smiling just as he always did at the start of a new school year. The Great Hall broke into enthusiastic applause, eager to get the announcements, the sorting, and the start-of-term speech over with.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" He began. "Before we begin the sorting, I will ask that you give a welcome to our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Fleur Delacour!"

Hermione choked. "Fleur Delacour?" She hissed to Harry and Ron over the thunderous applause from the Hogwarts male population. "/_Her_/? A /_professor_/?"

"She's not so bad," protested Harry.

"You only say that because she's /_pretty_/," Hermione returned scathingly. "She just graduated from Beauxbatons! She can't teach! Honestly…"

Ron, too, didn't seem to share Hermione's opinion on Fleur. "Yeah, well, Dumbledore hired her, didn't he? He's got his reasons." Hermione fell silent, but it was obvious that from the look on her face, she was not pleased in the least.

Most in the hall were standing up to get a good look at Fleur. She was smiling rather nervously, but there was no mistaking the pride with which she held her head. Her blonde hair was loose, her robes sparkling blue.

When the applause (and whistles) had finally died down, Dumbledore gestured to someone in the doorway. "And to our newest student, Silvia Castelli of Italy. If I'm not mistaken, she'll be joining the fifth years."

The first thing Harry noticed about Silvia was that she was…well, dark. Her skin was deeply tanned, and her hair was straight and nearly black. A few meager handfuls of applause broke out, but Silvia didn't seem to mind her apparent lack of popularity. Solemnly, she passed the line of first years and approached Professor McGonagall, who stood waiting with the Sorting Hat.

Silvia muttered something to the Transfiguration teacher, who nodded. She then seated herself on the stool, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The Hat slipped over her eyes. There was a long, awkward pause.

"SLYTHERIN!" Declared the Hat. The Slytherin table broke into applause, and Silvia rose once more, heading for a seat at the farthest end of the table. Apparently, she didn't want company. ((Yeah, I know…EVERY new character is either in Gryffindor or Slytherin…but Gryffindor doesn't really have any classes with Ravenclaw, which is where Silvia would have gone. It's easier if she's a Slytherin.)) There she sat, staring at the plate in front of her, and not looking around at anyone.

"Bit unnerving, isn't she?" Muttered Seamus Finnigan. Those surrounding him who heard nodded.

Harry didn't know what to think. The impression Silvia gave off was uncannily eerie. He stared at her. He couldn't help it. And as if sensing his gaze, Silvia looked up and met his eyes with hers. He shivered. They were a cold silver. He was half-expecting his scar to hurt, or the room to burst into flame, or Voldemort to appear suddenly, but nothing unusual occurred. Odd.

Dumbledore continued on. "The new Prefects have been chosen. Representing Gryffindor is Hermione Granger." Harry tore his gaze from Silvia to applaud his friend. He noticed a few Ravenclaws nearby rolling their eyes. He had to admit, it WASN'T really a surprise. Hermione looked down with a bit of a smile on her face. It was obvious she wasn't trying to look too pleased with herself.

"For Ravenclaw, Lisa Turpin." More applause. "Prefect of Hufflepuff is Justin Finch-Fletchley." Ron looked surprised.

"That idiot? A prefect?" He stared at Justin, who was grinning broadly.

"And for Slytherin, Draco Malfoy." Almost at once, the Gryffindor table burst into boos. Slytherin, however, was ecstatic.

Ron looked horrified. So did Hermione. Harry just gaped. "/_Malfoy_/? Prefect of Slytherin?" Draco was smirking, and was turning his badge this way and that, to show it off. Harry snuck a glance at Professor Snape, who was looking immensely proud. Obviously, the Potions master had played a big role in making Malfoy a prefect.

"Bloody hell," Ron hissed. "Malfoy, Prefect of Slytherin? Snape must've poisoned everyone the day they elected prefects." This earned him a sharp look from Hermione.

"Oi, Malfoy!" Fred Weasley called over to the Slytherin table. "How much did your dear old dad pay for you to be named Prefect?"

The Gryffindors were muttering darkly amongst themselves, so hardly any of them heard Dumbledore announce the start of the first year Sorting Ceremony.

"Bugger," Ron murmured. "Hermione, you're not going to let him take points off of us, are you?"

Hermione blushed. Everyone seemed to be looking at her. "Of course not. Unless it's really necessary."

Harry was annoyed. He knew it shouldn't bother him, but Malfoy was now both captain of the Slytherin quidditch team and prefect of Slytherin house, while he was only captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team. He wouldn't have cared if it were Ron or anyone else, but the fact that Malfoy held TWO positions of power at Hogwarts upset him. Malfoy was his chief rival…and now it seemed that the pale, blonde Slytherin held the upper hand. He could take points off Harry any time he wanted to.

"Hermione," he hissed, "he's going to be watching every move we make. Can't you be a LITTLE more enthusiastic?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off as the Gryffindor table erupted in clapping. A shy, brunette first year was making her way over.

"Seriously, Hermione." Neville Longbottom whispered down the table. "You know how bad I am at…at avoiding accidents. And I'm really stupid…Malfoy's going to be taking points off by the hundred."

Hermione scowled. "Neville, don't call yourself stupid. And Malfoy's not going to do ANYTHING that excessive, or I'll have something to say about it." She couldn't mask the worry in her face. Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prefect? As much as she wanted to deny it, she was sure Malfoy would do everything in his power to kick Gryffindor out of the House Cup running, especially during the first few school days. Hermione knew Malfoy would love to see the looks on everyone's faces when Gryffindor had a negative amount of points.

Ron appeared to be digging holes in the table with his fork.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" Shouted the Hat. No one in Gryffindor seemed to be paying much attention to the Sorting anymore. They were all worried about Gryffindor's trophy future, and Harry noticed a few of them looking his way.

/_Probably wondering if I'm any good at being Captain,_/ he thought bitterly.

"Webber, Katie!" "RAVENCLAW!"

Ron dragged his fork along the table, carving an abstract pattern until an annoyed Hermione told him to stop.

"Zander, Carlson!" "GRYFFINDOR!"

Vaguely, Harry noticed that the Sorting was over, and the golden plates in front of them all were beginning to fill with food.

"Well, Gryffindor's got Longbottom. They ought to lose points fast enough," Draco drawled loudly. "And then there's Potter, who doesn't know a damn thing about being Captain. These House Cup and Quidditch Cup trophies are a done deal, I'd say."

Ron bristled, and was about to leap out of his chair and storm over to the Slytherin table, when a soft, musical voice interrupted everyone's thoughts.

"Bonjour," Fleur was standing behind them, and she smiled straight at Harry, who found himself blushing in spite of his wishes. "I 'eard zat 'oo are Gryffindor's new Captain. Congratulationz, 'arry."

"Er, thanks." Harry smiled weakly. "I hope I can do it."

"Bonjour, Monsieur Weasley…Ron, eez eet?" Fleur had turned her gaze on Ron, who was as red as his hair.

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed Ron's plate, where she began piling food. Ron was so interested in the veela that he appeared to have temporarily forgotten about dinner.

Fleur stayed for a few more minutes, chatting politely with the nearby Gryffindors, until she was called away to sit with the rest of the teachers. "Au revoir, mes élèves," she called as she returned to the teachers' table.

"Élèves?" Dean stared after Fleur, his mouth hanging open.

"It's French for 'students'," Hermione informed them impatiently. "And if you don't eat soon, you'll just have to do without dinner." Briskly, she began cutting her filet mignon.

Slowly, the males went back to normal, and the rest of dinner at the Gryffindor table took place in unusual silence until Dumbledore rose again to announce the curfew.

Hermione rose huffily and waited for the rest of the Gryffindors to do the same. Angelina Johnson, the Head Girl, was already waiting at the doors leading out from the Great Hall. Harry and Ron pushed past people to catch up with Hermione, who was moving at a fast pace. She didn't say a word to them.

"Hermione," said a quiet, icy voice nearby. Hermione looked around for the speaker, and her eyes settled on Silvia, who was behind them. "A word, if you'd please."

"'A word'?" Muttered Ron, snorting. "Who does she think she is?" 

When the crowd of students had left the Great Hall, Hermione parted from the crowd, heading for a place near the other side of the hall.

"You're not seriously going to give her _a word_, are you?" Ron called. She waved them on, indicating that they should go ahead to the common room without her. "I don't believe it…." Ron laughed quietly. "She is!"

Harry, however, was a little more reluctant to leave Hermione with Silvia.

_____*_____

Hermione was soon joined by Silvia, and the two waited quietly until the hall had been emptied. While they were waiting, Hermione got a good look at the new Slytherin. Silvia was about her height, if not a little taller. She was rather pretty, in a dark sort of way, and her eyes were an odd shade of gray. In fact, they were almost silver.

Silvia was looking at her oddly, as if deciding if she was worthy of something. "You are Hermione Granger," she stated.

"Yes." Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. "I'm sorry to sound rude, but I really have to go to my common room soon. I have a lot of studying to do."

Silvia's dark lips curled into an odd smile. "You like to study?"

"Well…" Hermione faltered, puzzled. Why did it matter? "There's nothing wrong with studying," she said defensively.

"I never said there was." Silvia's silver eyes glittered. "I was top student at my school in Italy."

"Really." Hermione feigned interest. "Why did you leave?"

Silvia shrugged. "I was caught plotting to kill the headmaster." She smiled then, showing off perfectly white teeth. "I didn't like him very much, you see."

Now Hermione was more than a little unnerved. "We don't allow that here."

"I've noticed." Silvia's smile grew. "I've heard that you're the top student here. Is that true?"

Hermione blinked. "Well, yes, I suppose so," she answered. "In my year, that is." She fidgeted a bit. She didn't like Silvia Castelli.

"Oh. Well, I just thought I'd tell you to enjoy it while it lasts." Silvia said silkily, stretching a bit and beginning to head off in the opposite direction.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, shocked.

"Just a bit of friendly competition," Silvia called back. "But don't worry. I enjoy challenges."

Hermione stared after Silvia, shocked. Dumbledore had let in a possible murderess! And not only was Silvia unnerving, she was exceptionally cryptic. Shaking her head, Hermione turned and began walking toward Gryffindor Tower.

No one had ever challenged her before. Not academically. So why did it bother her, now that someone finally had?

_____*_____

A/N: If you're going to be a moron and tell me I hate Italians, then you might as well not leave a review. I'll only make fun of you. I happen to have Italian blood. Believe it or not, people have actually accused me of hating Americans, since Alexandra, the last bitch character I wrote about, was American. Get this, people: I'm American. I've lived in this country all my life. I don't think I'd hate Americans. I just randomly chose Italy.


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